


Surrender

by SnowyWolff



Series: Prumano Week 2020 [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Consensual Sex, Desk Sex, Face-Fucking, Humiliation Kink-ish, Just....... They Be Fucking Aight??, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prumano Week 2020, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:41:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25715980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowyWolff/pseuds/SnowyWolff
Summary: Vargas chuckled, a low sound in his throat, hand pressing against his stomach and inching ever lower. “I can take that control away from you.” He ran his finger very deliberately over the seem in his trousers, along Gilbert’s cock. “I can make you forget all about pride and will.”
Relationships: Prussia/South Italy (Hetalia)
Series: Prumano Week 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1862809
Comments: 7
Kudos: 52





	Surrender

**Author's Note:**

> For Prumano Week 2020 ([link](https://prumano-week.tumblr.com/post/622536036545921024/its-that-time-of-the-year-again-once-again-the)) - Day 2: Sharing an umbrella // **Pirate AU**
> 
> This… is a vague continuation of last year’s Prumano Week entry for Pirate AU lmao (arguably the one people showed least interest in, but you know I can only ever care about unpopular things)
> 
> UM hope your neck didn’t snap from the vicious whiplash going from day 1 fluff to......... This.....  
> so, uh, heed the tags?? This is going to be a Ride yall

His father had always told him to take opportunities and risks whenever possible. Sure, he had meant it in terms of business and mercantile relations, but it wasn’t the worst advice to follow in a wide variety of situations. It made life a little more interesting.

Not that Gilbert’s life had ever been uninteresting, really. He had never known his birth father, and his mother had died in abject poverty when he had been ten. He had lived on the streets for three years, picking pockets and filling the mouths of the other orphans he shared his mother’s, then his, dilapidated hut in the slumps with. Then, one day, as he had tried to snatch the simple, yet beautiful pocket watch he had seen disappear in a gentleman’s inner coat pocket, he found himself caught, arm held firmly by that gentleman.

Aldrich Beilschmidt had gazed down at Gilbert with his clear blue eyes, his long blond hair cascading past his shoulder despite the satin ribbon tying it back, and had said, “You have a fine eye for a street rat, young man.”

And Gilbert had straightened his back defiantly and replied, “I would say a rat raised on the street has a finer eye than any old gentleman raised in the mansions on the hill.”

Aldrich hadn’t reacted in any discernible manner at the time, except ask where his parents were, which Gilbert had answered with the truth. Now, Gilbert knew his father must have been amused with him, though sombre upon receiving the answer to the second question. His voice had been steady and kind when he had offered Gilbert a home and his surname, but Gilbert knew Aldrich well enough now to understand the steadiness was but a cover to the strong emotions he could see in the gentle waves of his eyes. Aldrich was, in that sense, very easy to read.

Gilbert knew how to read people; it was lesson number three after his adoption into the Beilschmidt family, the first being manners, the second business. And Gilbert was his father’s best merchant, trader and businessman.

However, for the first time in a very long time, he could not, for the life of him, unravel Captain Vargas. Those eyes offered him nothing but perpetual amusement whenever they gazed upon him, as if Vargas knew exactly how much it bothered Gilbert how unreadable they were.

Weeks passed aboard _Apollo_ _’s Wreath_ , with only one stop at port, where Gilbert had been forced to accompany Captain Vargas toward the postal office to send the letter with his whereabouts, yet the captain, when he had told Gilbert to write his own ransom note, had told him not to include an actual ransom. The remainder of the day was spent going around town, where Vargas gave him a surprisingly interesting historical tour of the city.

The politeness was eerie, it reminded him of a prey being lulled into a false sense of security, so Gilbert felt constantly on edge.

Even more so as Captain Vargas invited him for wine and cordial conversation in his quarters every evening, but never allowed him to drink more than a glass or two. The wine was for the captain only—good, heavy, Italian wine, bought instead of pillaged or stolen. It flowed easily down a parched throat, and Gilbert’s tended to feel like a desert whenever he was in the company of the captain.

It also made him acutely aware of the lust curling in his stomach and his loins.

Vargas reclined in his chair, observing Gilbert with that usual amusement, though for the first time since their meeting, Gilbert could swear there was something else there too.

He hadn’t noticed himself leaning forward, trying to discern what he was seeing in the flickering light of the oil lanterns, but then Vargas’ lips quirked into a smile, tipping his glass back to finish the last of his wine before setting it on the desk, and reached his arm across the desk to grasp Gilbert’s chin. His fingers were rough, but surprisingly gentle as they tilted his head back,

Vargas gazed into his eyes, as if daring him to read more.

“Are you interested in me, Mr. Beilschmidt?” Vargas asked in a low voice, sending shivers down Gilbert’s spine.

Gilbert tried to swallow, his throat even dryer as his mind ran in circles. “Interested?”

Lips quirking into a smile, Vargas released his chin and stood up with more elegance than a man who had drunk half a bottle of wine should have, walking around the desk to lay his hands on Gilbert’s shoulders as he circled around him. Curling against his back, his warm breath ghosted against the shell of Gilbert’s ear.

Gilbert kept very still, uncertain of this sudden development, but not finding it particularly unpleasant. He had had enough wine to feel warm and a little light-headed, a little bolder, but not even close to drunk—he still knew to be wary of the pirate captain whose prisoner he very much was, however much freedom he was given.

“You’re a proud man, Mr. Beilschmidt,” Vargas muttered. “You have a strong mind, a strong conviction, a hunger for power. It’s something we share.” He ran one of his hands down Gilbert’s arm and slowly onto his chest. “I am very interested in you, Mr. Beilschmidt.”

His voice was warm and inviting, a voice used to getting its way. Gilbert had an interest as well, but he refused to submit so easily to a pirate—after all, he _had_ pride.

“And what of it?” Gilbert tried to turn his head to look at the man behind him, but the hand still on his shoulder grabbed his jaw to keep him from doing so.

Vargas chuckled, a low sound in his throat, hand pressing against his stomach and inching ever lower. “I can take that control away from you.” He ran his finger very deliberately over the seem in his trousers, along Gilbert’s cock. “I can make you forget all about pride and will.”

Gilbert’s breath hitched. “That’s a very lofty promise.”

“Do you want me to deliver on it?” His tongue curled around the consonants, and Gilbert wanted it curled around other places rather badly.

“What if you won’t?”

“I’ll take _personal_ responsibility.” Vargas pressed a kiss to his ear, his whisper sounding so smug and victorious that Gilbert couldn’t help but groan softly.

“All right.” Gilbert hoped his voice wasn’t actually as breathy as it felt. “I’ll keep you to that, Captain.”

Vargas immediately withdrew and, as Gilbert twisted around to watch him, he saw him lock the door, taking out the key and bringing it back with him to the desk. Vargas took a seat on top of it, wagging the key in front of Gilbert before placing it next to him. “So we won’t be interrupted. However, you’re free to leave whenever you want to, though I don’t intend to make you feel like you’ll want to.”

Gilbert stared at him, nodding dumbly.

Smiling in that infuriatingly placating amusement, Vargas crossed his legs and took Gilbert’s half-finished glass. “Get up and undress yourself for me.”

“What?”

“Orders are meant to be followed, Mr. Beilschmidt,” Vargas said dismissively as he took a sip of wine. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Gilbert felt insulted, really. He shot him a sour look, but slowly stood up once he saw the man’s eyebrow twitch. He had seen that twitch once and the poor fellow at who it had been directed had been flogged. So, slowly, Gilbert pulled on the cord of his tunic to loosen it and pull it off over his head, dropping it on the chair. He almost tipped over as he tried to toe off his boots, ignoring the amused snort directed at him, and finally exhaled slowly as he hooked his fingers into his waistband to push his trousers and undergarments off. Completely exposed, he righted himself and pushed back his shoulders in front of Vargas, meeting his eyes defiantly despite feeling the usual flush of embarrassment heating his cheeks and ears.

Vargas took to looking him up and down unabashedly, as if he was appraising a piece of game on the market. He didn’t move for a while, only occasionally taking a sip until his glass was empty. Discarding it, Vargas pushed himself away from the desk, walking into Gilbert’s personal space and closer, pressing his hands against his chest and curling them down his arms.

Gilbert didn’t move, looking down to follow Vargas’ movements until the man titled his head back to find his eyes.

“Kiss me,” he ordered, grasping Gilbert’s wrists firmly.

It was an odd request; kissing felt intimate to him—it wasn’t the pure physicality most men sought—but it wouldn’t hurt to indulge, he figured. Beside, it had been an order.

Vargas was an impatient man, and it showed in his kiss, lips rough and demanding, slipping his tongue in at the slightest gasp from Gilbert. He was, however, a good kisser, sliding his tongue alongside Gilbert’s with experience, and Gilbert wanted to unclothe Vargas and run his hands along his skin—

The metallic click and the heavy, cold weight of iron settled around one wrist, quickly followed by the other. Vargas smirked as he tugged on the chain of the shackles, giving Gilbert’s cheek a quick pat as he stared at him, confused.

“I told you,” Vargas said as he drew his head down to kiss and bite his lips, “I’ll take all control away from you.” He tugged on Gilbert’s hair, and his eyes shone with excitement, a thrilling change that made Gilbert more than willing to play along, as he roughly told Gilbert to kneel.

The hard wood made his knees complain, and he tried to shift into a more comfortable position while Vargas’ hand vanished from his hair. But when those fingers roughly tangled in his hair again, jerking his head up, Gilbert realized that sore knees was going to be the last of his worries.

Vargas had removed his coat and pulled his cock out of his trousers, stroking it absently, though he wasn’t hard yet.

Gilbert swallowed, glancing up at Vargas only to be met with a stoic sort of curiosity.

Vargas tugged on his hair again, forward, but it wasn’t cruel, more as a reminder as to what Gilbert had agreed to.

He placed his shackled hands against the man’s legs, supporting himself against him as he leaned forward to take Vargas’ cock in his mouth. Even flaccid, it was substantial and it had been a while since Gilbert had performed fellatio on someone, but it didn’t deter him from swallowing him for as much as he could, his nose buried in the coarse curls that covered the base.

Rubbing his tongue underneath, Gilbert closed his eyes, trying to get used to the sensation of a hardening cock in his mouth. The first few sucks were more experimental than good, but it seemed to get Vargas into the mood as his fingers tightened in his hair, his other hand stroking the side of Gilbert’s face.

As he took only the tip in his mouth, swirling his tongue around, licking the head and becoming more comfortable in his movements, he didn’t feel as embarrassed as he maybe should.

Perhaps Vargas had the ability to read minds because as soon as Gilbert started to become accustomed, he bucked his hips lightly, testing the waters as he held Gilbert still, shallowly fucking his mouth.

Gilbert slackened his jaw after the first thrust surprised him, Vargas’ cock scraping against his teeth unpleasantly, though not unwelcoming if the sharp gasp was anything to go by. He tried to focus on breathing, which quickly developed into panting as Vargas shoved more of himself in his mouth with every thrust, though Gilbert gagged when he went too far, and Vargas seemed to accept his losses with a short huff of laughter.

That surprised him slightly, trying to gaze up to gauge his expression, though Vargas simply twisted his hair painfully as he thrust in deeply again, a warning that was both overwhelming and incredibly arousing.

Gilbert moaned around Vargas’ cock, and as a reward Vargas repeated the motion. Gilbert’s hands drifted down to his own cock that had started being interested in the proceedings, wanting to indulge in the sensation of being used like this. He almost expected to be scolded, but Vargas seemed to have lost himself in fucking Gilbert’s mouth. Except, just as Gilbert curled his fingers around his own arousal, Vargas exhaled slowly as he thrust in as far as he could without making Gilbert gag and came down his throat.

That was something he hadn’t missed at all, Gilbert realized as Vargas pulled out. He turned his head to spit it out, but Vargas grasped his jaw, forcing their eyes to meet as he ordered him to swallow. “All of it.”

Reluctantly, Gilbert did as he was told, feeling gross for the first time since starting this.

“Good,” Vargas said, petting Gilbert’s hair absently.

Blinking dazedly as he caught his breath, trying to forget the taste in his mouth, Gilbert watched Vargas run a hand through his hair, cheeks flushed prettily. He’d gotten to see so many different expressions on the man now, this one almost peaceful, that he wasn’t particularly bothered about his own situation.

Vargas leaned forward to grab the chain between Gilbert’s shackles, pulling his hands away from his cock with a small tut. “Now, now. Not so fast. You’re not allowed to come until I tell you to. Captain’s orders.”

Gilbert shivered as Vargas forced him to stand on his numb legs, still holding the chain as he lead him over to the desk, bending him over the surface. He squeezed Gilbert’s ass, drawing a finger over his spine, as he leaned behind him, rubbing himself against Gilbert’s cheeks with a low hiss.

“Are you going to fuck me yet?” Gilbert asked, feeling a little annoyed as the edge of the desk bit into his pelvis.

“I’m going to shut you up first, I think,” Vargas replied as he withdrew. “I have no use for your mouth anymore.”

Gilbert pursed his lips as he watched him walk toward the chest pushed against the bed, revealing a myriad of clothes, including dresses, and pulled a black satin scarf from the mess that he folded over a few times to shorten its length. Opening his mouth obediently at Vargas’ raised eyebrow, Gilbert allowed him to tie it around his head, the strain uncomfortable against the corners of his mouth, but not entirely unpleasant. He breathed out through his nose, closing his eyes as he got used to the feeling.

He gasped at the cold sensation of oil being poured in between his ass cheeks, quickly followed by a finger that was pushed in up to the knuckle in one cruel movement. He groaned, grasping the edge of the desk in front of him, his body flinching away, though Vargas grasped his butt with his free hand.

“Hm, so tight.” Vargas pressed his mouth against Gilbert’s lower back. “You’re not a virgin, are you?”

Gilbert huffed through his nose, trying to kick him as an answer, though the angle was too awkward to do any real damage. He’d lost his virginity over ten years ago, thank you very much.

Vargas laughed lowly as he crooked his finger. “That’s good to know. I won’t hold back.”

Gilbert rolled his eyes as he shifted slightly, trying to ease some of the discomfort of his neglected dick pressing awkwardly against the desk—

The sharp slap against his ass, followed by Vargas thrusting two fingers inside of him, made Gilbert arch his back, the gag muffling the surprised cry that escaped his throat. Vargas returned his lips to Gilbert’s skin as well, pressing kisses and sucking marks and biting skin at random as he pushed his fingers back and forth, curling, twisting and spreading them.

Gasping and panting, rocking his hips back, Gilbert pressed his forehead against the table, feeling hot and flushed and stupidly needy. He wanted more—he needed more—but the cloth prevented him from asking for it. Instead, he writhed and breathed nonsensical noises, moaning as Vargas slapped his ass again, hitting the same spot, then giving it a vicious squeeze.

He continued with only two fingers for a while, until he finally added a third, yet keeping the movements shallow, as if he knew exactly how much Gilbert wanted it.

“Do you want me to relieve you?” Vargas asked, voice filled with anticipation, twisting his fingers.

Gilbert did want that very much, already, pathetically. So, he shook his head, gasping as Vargas pulled his head back by his hair, thrust his fingers in deep and bit into his neck. He felt so close, heat curling in his stomach as Vargas pressed and rubbed against his prostate.

“Stubborn,” Vargas whispered, leaving more marks down his neck and shoulders. “Did you like that? If you come, I’ll cut your dick off, you know.”

Gilbert mumbled something, whimpering as Vargas pulled him away from the table so he could grab his dick, giving it such a firm, cruel squeeze that he forgot how to breathe.

Pulling his fingers out and leaving Gilbert slumped over the desk for several cold moments, Vargas returned and held onto his hips as he rubbed his cock against Gilbert’s entrance, making Gilbert squirm. Slowly, he pushed in, seemingly savouring the moment or wanting to torture Gilbert more (or, perhaps, was being kind, but Vargas hadn’t struck him as the type), but never stopped, even as Gilbert made a low sound in the back of his throat that was closer to a pained groan than a long whine.

When he was all the way in, he finally paused, curling over Gilbert, heavy breath ghosting over his back in measured bursts.

Gilbert could feel tears prickle in the corner of his eye and he hid his face into the crook of his elbow. Vargas was no less endowed than he had been before and, because it actually _had_ been a while since he had last let someone top him, the stretch was too soon, too fast, too much. His breath shuddered as he tried to get used to the sting of pain, keeping as still as possible.

Vargas had taken to running his hands over Gilbert’s skin, nothing more than light touches that eventually settled on firmer presences on his waist, dragging his nails down to his hips. He shifted somewhat, pressing closer still as he rocked his hips in small movements.

It still felt like too much, but as Gilbert made his discomfort known with a soft groan, Vargas reached around him to stroke his cock with deliberate movements, continuing to rock his hips in rhythm with them. The combined friction made him want to both move away and find more, his cock begging for gratification while his ass begged for mercy. His hips bucked forward, away from Vargas and toward the hand that gave him a someplace to thrust into, yet with every buck of his hips, Vargas thrust into him from behind, going from rocking to genuine fucking in a matter of moments.

But by then, the pain had dissipated enough for pleasure to take hold, and as Gilbert grasped the edge of the desk for support, the shackles rustling against the wood with every thrust, he quickly found himself lost in the physicality of their movements—the feeling of Vargas’ cock inside of him, the stretch and burn of it his steady thrusts, his calloused hand around his cock—it was intoxicating.

Yet, Vargas fucked him slowly, evenly, leisurely. It was unsatisfying, a tease of what could be as he purposefully strayed from where it mattered, and his touch lightened before finally disappearing from Gilbert’s cock, instead moving up against his taut stomach muscles and tugging on his nipples.

Gilbert moaned—and for the first time he was glad for the cloth in his mouth as it turned more into a desperate whine when Vargas pulled almost all the way out, shallowly thrusting as he chuckled lowly. Gilbert tried to push back against him, trying to instigate something more, but Vargas simply pressed him harder against the desk, the edge digging painfully into his pelvis, though Vargas had been kind enough to adjust him so he wouldn’t sever off his dick.

“Do you want more?” Vargas asked, punctuating the question with a tug on his hair. “Would you like me to give you everything you want?”

_Yes, please_ , Gilbert tried to say, but the gag made coherency impossible.

“No?” Vargas tutted disapprovingly, pausing mid-thrust to lean against Gilbert’s back and pressing his hands against his shoulders to push him flat against the desk, and whispered, “Surrender. Relinquish yourself to me, Gilbert.”

The way Vargas’ accented voice rolled his name made Gilbert shiver, resting his forehead against the table with a soft, defeated noise. He didn’t know what Vargas wanted from him—hadn’t he given himself already? He was naked, bound and gagged—completely exposed. What was there left to relinquish?

Vargas kept still for a moment longer, as if expecting something, before he stood up again. His grip on Gilbert’s hips was even tighter, to the point Gilbert was expecting to find bruises there tomorrow, and pulled almost all the way out. There, he lingered for a moment longer, seemingly considering, and then finally thrust all the way in with a firm snap of his hips, dragging Gilbert toward him and further off the desk.

Caught between the risk of falling off and the risk of losing the wonderful, amazing, dizzying feeling of Vargas deep inside of him, Gilbert awkwardly grabbed the edge of the desk, the glasses shifting and clinking with the now harsh, fast movements of Vargas. Yet, they weren’t hazardous, deliberately not quite aiming for Gilbert’s prostate, leaving him craving and yearning.

The nice satin of his gag was probably ruined, sopping wet as he panted and drooled. He felt so close—he needed Vargas to please, please, _please_ relieve him of this miserable existence of _not enough_.

He tried to speak again, to beg and surrender, whatever it meant, muffled noises mixed with muffled moans. Louder, still, as Vargas slapped him again, the spot becoming sore with abuse. But Vargas did seem to take pity on him, shifting slightly, and, on his next deep thrust, rubbed against his prostate.

Arching his back and throwing his head back, Gilbert wanted to weep with relief as pleasure sparked through his entire being, edging on overwhelming as Vargas continued to aim to please. His panting was coloured with moans that punctuated each quick thrust. He felt so _close_.

And through the haze of it all he could hear Vargas behind him, his heavy breathing and quiet moans. He imagined him standing there, a white-knuckled grip on Gilbert’s hips, snapping his hips, head tilted up at the ceiling, eyes rolled back. Or perhaps he fucked with his eyes closed in concentration, head bowed, controlling himself and his movements.

Honestly, Gilbert was glad Vargas couldn’t see his expression from this angle—it would be far too intimate, far too _humiliating_ , otherwise.

“Are you thinking of coming all over the side of my desk?” Vargas asked breathlessly, slowing back to a cruel pace, leaving Gilbert with nothing but frazzled nerves and a desperate need. He lowered his voice. “I haven’t told you you could yet, remember? I’m here to take what is mine, and you’ll be happy if I let you have even a shred of satisfaction.”

Gilbert whined, a small, broken sound, his legs trembling as Vargas kept him right on the edge, but never allowed him to tip over. His body ached, muscles sore from the uncomfortable position, and he wondered how much longer he was meant to hold on.

Vargas pressed his mouth against his lower back, a startlingly soft gesture, and ran one hand along his side again, blunt nails leaving red marks, he was sure. His thrusts, still agonizingly slow, were long and deep, sometimes followed by a quick, shallow burst or two. He moaned as Gilbert clenched around him, partially muffling the sound against his skin as he came, milking his orgasm with steady rolls of his hips before pulling out.

With the loss of support, Gilbert sank to the floor, his legs feeling numb. He rested his head against the side of the desk, panting quietly as he touched himself. He needed something to ground him, keeping his touch light and slow as he waited for Vargas to… to do something. When the feeling returned to his legs somewhat, he shifted up so he could reach lower to touch his asshole, shivering at the semen and oil dripping out. The shackles made the position rather uncomfortable, but he had been for most of this ordeal anyway.

He blinked as he felt a hand run through his hair and glanced up to find Vargas smirking down on him.

“Enjoying yourself?” he purred, watching Gilbert with interest.

Gilbert huffed through his nose, too tired to be upset. He tried to plead through his expression, leaning toward Vargas as he pushed two of his fingers inside of himself.

Vargas knelt in front of him, grabbing Gilbert’s chin to tilt his head back, humming appreciatively as he ran his free hand over his shoulders and down his chest. “What a shameful sight you make. I wonder if I offer you my leg, would you hump it like a street dog?”

Gilbert groaned softly, closing his eyes as he teased himself. He would take anything at this point. He gasped as he Vargas pressed his mouth against his jaw, trailing kisses along his neck and throat. He faltered as Vargas held his cheek and searched his eyes for a reason for the sudden show of affection, feeling strangely flustered all of a sudden.

Whatever it was Vargas was looking for, it must have satisfied him as he he chuckled softly, giving Gilbert’s cheek a little pat. He stood up and held out his hands for Gilbert, who very reluctantly removed his fingers and allowed himself to be pulled up, still feeling a little unsteady. Thankfully, the bed was but a few steps away, and Vargas pushed Gilbert down into the surprisingly soft sheets.

As Gilbert settled into a comfortable position, still absently touching his cock, Vargas had left to retrieve something from his coat, returning with a key. He grabbed Gilbert’s hands and unlocked one of the shackles, guiding his arms up to wrap the chain around one of the ornate wooden bars that made the headboard of the bed. Once locked back in, Gilbert squirmed underneath Vargas’ roaming gaze, suddenly feeling much too bare.

Vargas grinned as he unhooked the button of his collar, running his other hand along Gilbert’s thigh. “What a strange man you are, Mr. Beilschmidt.” He pulled his shirt and boots off, then stood up to remove his trousers. Once he was naked, he walked over to where he had left the bottle of oil, returning to the bed as he poured some over his hand. Leaving the bottle on the floor, he warmed the oil between his hands before pushing Gilbert’s legs apart and pressing two of his fingers back inside of Gilbert without preamble.

Tensing up, Gilbert had to breathe out slowly, glancing up at the ceiling as he tried to relax. Except Vargas grabbed his chin and forced his gaze down.

“Look at me.” He curled his fingers inside of him as he let go of his face, shifting onto his knees and leaning over Gilbert to watch his expression avidly. “I want to see everything of you as I fuck you senseless.”

Gilbert swallowed, feeling the flush spread from his cheeks, down to his neck and shoulders. Now, he was feeling nervous, after everything Vargas had done to him so far; this much too close intimacy was what made his heart jump in his throat. There was no control for him anymore, nowhere left to hide, he was completely exposed and vulnerable.

Vargas took a lot less time teasing him, not even bothering with a third finger, instead lubing up his cock and, after making Gilbert curl his leg around his waist for a better position, pushed slowly, but steadily inside of him.

Gilbert tensed all over again, gasping as Vargas shifted the both of them when he rested his weight on his elbows on either side of Gilbert. His arms strained against the shackles, wanting to grasp onto the man instinctively, but all he managed was to chafe the skin of his wrists. He tried to focus on the pain instead of the fluttery feeling that blossomed as Vargas pressed kisses against his sternum.

And then those sharp eyes lifted to his own, disarming him even further, but before he could guard himself, Vargas rocked his hips and stroked his cock, effectively putting an end to all thinking. He just _wanted_.

Vargas kept his weight on one arm, foregoing proper leverage to just stay as deeply inside of Gilbert as he could, brushing against his prostate with every buck of his hips. His fingers worked around Gilbert’s cock, pushing against the foreskin and reaching underneath to play with his balls.

It was such an abrupt change to the everlasting teasing beforehand that Gilbert almost forgot to enjoy the indulgence. It was too much, too fast, and after being strung along for so long, coming suddenly sounded like an unattainable goal. He groaned softly, the mumble that he doubted would have been coherent even if his mouth hadn’t been filled with satin getting lost in his laboured breathing, his leg slipping down Vargas’ back.

Vargas had been mouthing along Gilbert’s neck, but paused as he pushed himself up. He pressed more kisses against Gilbert’s cheeks—the affection making Gilbert whine, his head feeling too fuzzy with embarrassment—and he tugged on the gag teasingly.

“Is it too much?” Vargas asked in a tone of voice that suggested he knew exactly what he was doing, as innocent as a sword coated in honey. “That’s all right, _tesoro_. I’ll slow down, just for you.”

Gilbert averted his eyes, mortified. With sex he could deal, it was just physical, but this specific sort of intimacy, with kisses and gentleness, made him feel like goo. Attachments were weaknesses, affection could be turned against you—and besides, it was just plain embarrassing, especially because he couldn’t control his body’s reactions: how his heart hammered in his chest and how his face and ears felt like they were lit on fire, not even mentioning how traitorous his mouth and expressions became. It was humiliating.

There was a pause where Vargas kept very still before he closed the distance again.

“You’re such a fascinating man,” he whispered as he littered featherlight kissed against his jaw, lingering by his ear. “I can shove my cock down your throat and fuck you over my desk without your pride taking so much as a dent, but the moment you’re shown affection, you falter completely.” He pushed himself back, resting his hands on Gilbert’s hips, eyeing him with open wonder. “You’re the most wonderful thing I’ve ever had the pleasure of having sex with.”

Gilbert closed his eyes with a defeated little moan as Vargas rolled his hips again, feeling his whole body burn. Everywhere Vargas touched now felt like fire, fingers digging into his hips and trailing over his chest, followed by quiet murmurs in a foreign tongue.

The pace Vargas set wasn’t only slow, but gentle. It was a whole new form of torture that Gilbert hadn’t known existed before. He wanted to sink into the sheets and hide from the wide eyes watching his face with a strange sort of reverence, as if he was something incredibly precious that needed special care.

Vargas leaned forward again, cradling Gilbert’s jaw and pressing kisses against whatever skin he could find. They were small and soft, a reassurance, taking Gilbert’s breath away in an entirely different way. His body strained as Vargas had made him curl in on himself to be closer still, the angle forcing his legs around Vargas’ waist to rest comfortably in this position, adding even more contact between them.

He couldn’t focus on anything anymore, only the touch of Vargas’ experienced lips against his jaw and throat passed through the haze that was muddling his mind, a fog of embarrassment and want and humiliation and arousal.

Tipping his head back, he panted quietly, whatever soft noises he made soaked up by the gag. It was his last saving grace, and it seemed Vargas was aware of that as well as he ran his fingers along the satin.

“I want to hear you,” he said as he reached around Gilbert’s head, fiddling with the knot. “I want to listen to your begging.”

His jaw felt slack as Vargas removed the cloth and dropped it off the bed. He swallowed, then gasped as Vargas caught his lips in a searing kiss, hands on his cheeks to angle his head back, deepening it without preamble. It was demanding, as if he had been waiting to do that, coaxing Gilbert to slide his tongue alongside his own.

Gilbert moaned brokenly as Vargas reached between them to touch his cock again, stroking him as slowly as he was fucking him. And as Vargas grasped his face with his free hand, continuing to kiss him hungrily, Gilbert felt he didn’t even know where he ended and Vargas began. There was nowhere to go, he had no control over the situation or what happened to himself, he was completely at Vargas’ mercy, both physically as emotionally.

Vargas finally moved some of his weight off of Gilbert, resting his arm back against the mattress so he had more leverage to thrust into Gilbert. The angle was still awkward, but it was quickly forgotten as Vargas adjust to find his prostate again. The slow, deliberate thrusts, combined with the firm strokes in time with them, made Gilbert dizzy with desire.

He was so close. So incredibly close.

“ _Ah, ah, ah—_ ” Gilbert panted as Vargas sucked and bit his throat, trying to remember how to speak. “Please—” His voice was hoarse and weak, interrupted by his own moans as Vargas squeezed his cock.

“Please?” Vargas prompted, kissing along his jaw and stealing his breath away from him again with another searing kiss.

“I want to—” He gasped, arms straining against the shackles, the bed creaking, as Vargas went for a particularly deep thrust. “May I— _ah!_ —please come?”

Vargas repeated the motion as he considered, humming thoughtfully as he removed his hand from Gilbert cock to hold his cheek to force their eyes to meet. “Tell me how much you want to and I’ll consider allowing it.” He pressed his thumb against Gilbert’s lips as he watched him with keen interest.

Gilbert had trouble thinking, let alone stringing together some semblance of a sentence. “So much,” he breathed, tipping his head back as Vargas sped up slightly in reward. “So, so much! Please! Anything—I’ll do anything—!”

Vargas leaned closer to mutter against Gilbert’s ear, “Surrender.”

“I…” Gilbert didn’t have the mental energy anymore to figure out what that meant, instead babbling breathlessly, endlessly, “Please, I’ll do— _ah, ah_ —I have—! Please, please, please, _please_! I’m yours! All yours! Please, just—have mercy!”

He had nothing left to give, his head filled with fog and cotton, his whole body trembling with restraint as Vargas moved back to roughly fist his cock, setting a fast, hard, rough pace at every plead that fell from Gilbert’s lips until his voice died in his throat and he was left mouthing _please, please, yours, I promise, all yours, please, please, please_!

Vargas was soaking it all up, his breathing laboured and coloured with moans and “good, you’re so _good_ ”s and “Mine, mine, mine”s.

“You can come,” Vargas panted, eyes bright as they focused entirely on Gilbert. “You’ve been so _good_ , so handsome and wonderful. Let go. It’s okay, I promise. Come for me, Gilbert.”

Gilbert did, the hot coil in his stomach snapping and overflowing as Vargas thrust in deeply, pushing against his prostate, and squeezed Gilbert’s cock. He almost passed out with the sheer relief of release, eyes rolling back in his head as he spilled over himself, gasping for breath as Vargas continued to fuck and pump him throughout his orgasm until he too came with Gilbert’s name on his lips.

It seemed forever until Gilbert blinked open his eyes, though it must have been a matter of moments, Vargas pulling out of him and leaning off the bed to retrieve the key to remove the shackles. Gilbert was barely aware of him rubbing the circulation back into his wrists and cleaning him off, floating through his afterglow absently, his body and mind feeling almost foreign to him.

He muzzily met Vargas’ eyes after the man had sat down beside him and cupped his cheek, brushing his thumb underneath his eye with a soft expression. It took Gilbert a moment to realize he was wiping away the tears that must have spilled over without him noticing.

Staring up into those golden eyes, for once open and entirely serious, Gilbert found himself reassured, not a shred of embarrassment left. Instead, it had been replaced by a calm sort of peace and a fondness for this puzzling pirate.

He reached up to draw Vargas’ face to his, kissing him to convey those emotions, or maybe Vargas already knew as he kissed back readily, just as gently as Gilbert had intended.

When they broke apart, reluctantly, Vargas settled next to him on the bed, trailing his fingers over Gilbert’s chest. He looked much younger like this, calm and relaxed—and Gilbert hadn’t realized just how tense Vargas normally was. It was to be expected, of course, considering the stress of captaining a ship full of pirates as well as being one of the most wanted men in the world, but with the way Vargas carried himself, Gilbert had never thought twice about it.

“I didn’t introduce myself properly before,” Vargas began, filling the silence with a quiet admission, “but my name is Lovino Othonos. Vargas is the name of the bastard father that left my pregnant mother for fame and fortune in the Spanish navy. I sail under his name so I cam overshadow his deeds with my own infamy.” He looked up at Gilbert, eyes intense with loathing. “I want him to live knowing people will forever remember the person he tried to forget most.”

Gilbert blinked, surprised that he would share such an intimate detail with him. Not knowing what to reply, he grabbed the hand still resting on his chest and held it firmly in his own, hoping it was answer enough. By the squeeze he was given in return, as well as the continuation of the peaceful quiet, he supposed it had been.

After a while of mulling over his options, knowing he would never find this same peace anywhere else in the world, most certainly not working as his father’s intended heir, Gilbert came to a decision.

“I was thinking…” Gilbert cleared his throat awkwardly, still sounding hoarse, as Vargas—no, _Lovino_ —looked at him curiously.

“Yes?”

“Ah, well.” Gilbert took a deep breath, feeling oddly exposed again. “Every pirate needs a good businessman to do his trading and accounting, does he not?”

Lovino searched his face for a moment, confused, before snorting. “Are you asking me whether you could stay?”

Gilbert sputtered, then sniffed haughtily. “My services are highly desired, you know.”

“They are.” Lovino grinned as he pushed himself up to lean over Gilbert. “I would be honoured to have you aboard, Mr. Beilschmidt.”

Wrapping his arms around the other man’s neck, Gilbert pulled himself up to kiss him again, taking his lip between his teeth. “Only if you promise to clean me up properly within the next hour. I don’t particularly enjoy having semen dribbling out of my ass.”

Lovino laughed, wild and carefree. “If that is the only price I’ll have to pay for your company, I will become a very spoilt man indeed.”

“Well, terms and conditions do apply,” Gilbert added, grinning as he ran his hands along Lovino’s back to squeeze his ass.

“We can discuss those later, then. As for now—” Lovino settled on top of him with a satisfied hum. “—I am really quite too comfortable.”

Gilbert exhaled slowly, loosely curling his arms around Lovino, allowing himself to be warm and content for the time being as he listened to the calm breathing of the man on top of him in tune with the creaking of the ship and the waves of the ocean outside.

**Author's Note:**

> SO  
> Idk my dude this completely ran away from me….. I kept going “man this is going to be 3k…… 4k…… surely I’ll be done by 5k right??? R I G H T ?????????” yeah...... right.................. 
> 
> Please like leave a comment bc I might just implode otherwise 😔😩


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